Addiction
by zst4ever
Summary: Mello's addicted to chocolate  and catching Kira. Matt's addicted to smoking  and Mello. Habits are hard to break, and some are better left unbroken. But don't let them consume you, or your addiction will turn deadly... MelloxMatt, nothing graphic.
1. Defeat Near Capture Kira

**Rated mostly for language (meaning NO yaoi, lemons, etc.), but I guess there's a bit of shonen ai? Nothing at all graphic. Inspired by ****SlvrSoleAlchmst1 **

Mello licked his lips, lapping up every molecule of chocolate that remained from the last bite before sinking his teeth into the bar once more. His fingers were flying across the keyboard in a clicking blur. He had one goal in his mind. Well, technically it was two goals, but the only way to achieve one was to achieve the other. Defeat Near. Capture Kira. Those two phrases had been running through his mind for a while now, especially the first one. It was nearing 4 in the morning, but Mello couldn't stop searching and hacking, searching and hacking, searching and – wow, he never had dinner, did he? His stomach growled piteously through the skintight leather, pleading for something other than chocolate. _Shit, _Mello thought. He was so close, him and Near were right on Kira's tail. Stopping to do something as mundane as eat a meal sounded stupid, even weak, to Mello's ears. His head was pounding painfully from lack of sleep, but he had gotten used to that, just like he had gotten used to the pangs in his stomach. Every time one of them got particularly painful he just voraciously chomped another bite of chocolate. Which was getting to taste kinda empty. _I'm in the process of catching a fucking murderer, I'm not going to stop for crap like eating or sleeping until I beat that little self righteous fuck that has a head big enough to call himself God…_ He fingered the cross hanging around his neck and clenched his eyes shut. _I'm the one that's going to find that punkass. I'll find him before that….that…._kid_ does…_ Mello's blood was starting to boil at thoughts of Near and Kira. A few deep steadying breaths later, he started to open his eyes to get back to work. _Ughh I never should have closed them, _Mello realized. He had gone almost four days without a wink of sleep, and he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something other than his stack of chocolate, or drank anything other than the glasses of water that appeared every few hours or so. He had a feeling Matt didn't want him to accidentally dehydrate himself. Right now, dehydration wasn't as much the problem. The fact that he so longed to sleep, and eat, was. He couldn't, he just couldn't.

_Defeat Near. Capture Kira. _Okay, eyes are fully open. Now turn to the computer again. _Defear Near. Capture Kira. _Place hands on the keyboard. Good job, Mello. _Defeat Near. Capture Kira._ Click on that button. Oh no, stomach's growling again….let's hope the striped lump on the couch has fallen asleep and didn't hear that. _Defeat Near. Capture Kira. _Dammit. Head spinning slightly…nope, more than slightly. Chocolate slipping out of mouth…oh, eating would sound so good if these eyes would just stay open…Stomach growling really loud….ouch, it hurts…it hurts…

"Mello?"

_Defeat Near. Capture Kira. _Who said that? What's happening? Falling off the chair…oh God…it hurts….need to eat….need to remain conscious…no, must sleep…NO! _Defeat Near. Capture Kira. Defeat Near. Capture Kira. _"It hurts…."

"Mello!" It was Matt's voice, coming from somewhere above Mello's head. " What hurts? What the hell, you're practically unconscious! Have you eaten or slept at all?"

"M-Matt…" Mello's voice was foreign to him, he hadn't used it in days. "I…can't stop…I have to do it…I have to…" _Where am I? I'm not on the chair anymore. Ok, take a moment, think it through….I think I'm lying down…but not on a bed…What the fuck, is Matt _holding _me? _He squirmed weakly, yes, those were definitely his friend's strong limbs cradling him.

"Have to what, Mello?" Matt had stuck one arm around Mello's shoulders and inserted another in the crook of his knees, so he was, actually quite literally, cradling him. "Kill yourself? Because that's what you're doing, you idiot. Starving and not sleeping isn't gonna solve this case. You're getting too into it! You need some sleep, _now._" Matt stood gingerly, ready to carry Mello to the bed. "Holy shit, Mello!" He spat the cigarette onto the floor in surprise and stared into the blonde's face. "You weigh almost nothing." There was fear in Matt's voice. Mello was supposed to be strong, fierce, invincible. This frail creature in his arms wasn't the man he knew. It was scary, but at the same time, Matt couldn't help but give a small smile. He doubted anyone else in the world had ever lived to see Mello this…unguarded. The black leather was less forbidding without the pure hatred emanating from it. All Matt wanted to do was hold Mello's shuddering body close to his own and embrace it, basking in the warmth of his friend without having to worry about having his head ripped off in return. But this wasn't the time for that.

"It doesn't matter what I weigh, moron," Mello coughed with a hint of his old self. "Put me down!" He tried to beat against Matt's chest, but his arms were weak from doing nothing but typing for days. His fingers slid down Matt's collarbone in defeat, causing chills to shoot down Matt's spine in response to the weakness he was holding as well as the sensation the slim digits had created. "I…I have to….I can't rest….I told you already! I have to!" His stomach growled angrily as Matt laid him on the bed.

"And I told_ you, _I have no idea what you "have to" do," Matt responded roughly. "But before you do whatever it is, you're going to sleep for a few hours, and then you're going eat something. Don't even try arguing," he added as Mello opened his mouth. "you can't even stand, much less argue."

"But I have to…"

"Have to WHAT?" Mello could barely wrap his mind around the fact that Matt didn't know, the mantra had been pounding into his head for so long.

"Defeat Near. Capture Kira."

Matt rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you're not gonna do that when you can't move. Come on, just get some rest. It'll do you good."

Mello wanted so much to comply, but something was nagging at him. He pried his protesting eyes open to gaze at the concerned redhead above him. The pillow and mattress and blanket…oh god, it felt better than sex. He was already half asleep.

"Matt?" he breathed.

"Yeah?" Matt was loosening Mello's body hugging clothes so he could breathe easier, even though they had already loosened considerably due to Mello's terrifyingly quick weight loss. His fingers, experienced though video games, nipped across Mello's shirt, his shoes, and – here those fingers faltered a bit with embarrassment – the ropes in his pants.

"How come you're being so nice to me?" It sounded childish, not Mello-like at all. He hated the way his voice sounded at that moment.

"I hate seeing you like this, Mello. I want my ferocious friend back, not this starving thing," Matt laughed. No, no, he didn't get it, that's not what Mello meant…he meant in general, for all of their lives. The truth was, the question had been bothering him for quite a long time. Every day for years, he cursed and complained and commanded everyone around him, especially Matt. He couldn't help it, it was just who he was. Matt never left, though. Sure they might have had a couple fights when Mello went too over the top, but Matt always let Mello's insults and fists brush by him as if they didn't hurt. And the next morning he'd be sitting on the couch with a cigarette in his mouth and a game in his hand, just waiting for Mello to storm in and tell him what to do. Most people who tried to get close to Mello just stayed for the money and then left, but Matt never did. Matt had always been there, protesting, lazy, but _there_, helping Mello more than he could ever know. And getting almost nothing in return. Mello didn't understand it.

"No, I mean always…you're always so nice to me…and I, well, I treat you like shit half the time. If I were you, I would have killed me by now…" Mello wanted to sleep so badly, but he had to get this out. And somehow, this felt like the right time. "How come you've put up with me for so long?"

The question startled Matt.

"Honestly? I don't have a clue. You're an interesting person, Mello. I've been with you all my life, I think I'm practically addicted to you." The words had started to pour out of his mouth, but he knew they were all true. He stroked the wheatlike hair I don't know what the hell I'd do without having to clean up your messes. I guess….I don't know….hanging around you has become a part of me." _You have become a part of me,_ he thought with a smile.

"Oh…" Mello didn't know what to say. _Crap, maybe I should have waited til I was conscious to ask that…_ "Thanks…" Matt laughed.

"No prob. Now come on, please. Get some rest," Matt insisted. Mello let a playful grin that was half a smirk flutter across his lips for a single moment. Then with a deep breath (and that grin still on his face), he fell into a relieved deep sleep. Matt laughed again, softer now, at that cocky smile. _Half dead and still smirking…there's my Mello._ He couldn't help himself. He allowed his lips to caress Mello's forehead in a brief chaste kiss before walking into the kitchen to make the guy some food. _Addicted, huh? Guess that's true. _He stopped in the living room to pick up a cigarette. _We're getting addicted to a lot of stuff these days, even Mello's fricken addicted to his goals…_Defeat Near. Capture Kira. _Jeez…I wonder if we'll ever break these crazy habits?_

**I think I like Mello and Matt too much to make this a one shot x-x soooo guess I'm gonna keep going…let me know what you think **

**Don't own Death Note, Mello, or Matt (much to my dismay).**


	2. The Reason to Quit

**Yeah, I couldn't stay away from these guys. Hehe. The style in this chapter is a bit different, since five days away from the plot altered my train of thought, I guess. Also, this was written somewhere around midnight-3am (it would have taken a shorter time, but I kept getting distracted by pictures of Matt that I kept referring to in orfer to describe him), but I hope you still like it! Let me know what you think!**

**Once again, I don't own Death Note, Matt, or Mello (Sighh. If only.)**

_Chocolate. Nggh._

Mello slowly and unwillingly swam back into consciousness. _Chocolate_, he thought again.

Okay, maybe he wasn't quite at the "conscious" level yet.

_Chocolate!_ he thought more insistently. He wasn't even positive why he was thinking it. He flexed the fingers of his left hand gingerly. There was no chocolate there, or anywhere within his 2 inch grasp. Well, this was a first for him.

_CHOCOLATE!_ he thought one more time, screaming the word in his head. _Why on earth hasn't Matt heard me?! I'll kill that idiot, I fucking swear…who's he to keep me from my damn chocolate?_

Yeah, he hadn't made it to the nice warm shore of "conscious" yet. More like, he was treading water somewhere in the middle of the "dreamland" sea. But he was getting there.

In his head, Mello was getting angrier and angrier, while still remaining half asleep, floating in the ocean of lullaby world.

_C'mon I need my damn chocolate! Where's that Matt…_and then it finally hit him like a very pissed and muscular lifeguard was ripping him out of that sea and DUMPING him on the shore: he had practically passed out, he had asked Matt – what was it? How come you're being so nice to me? _Oh SHIT. _And then it hit him again (damn was that imaginary lifeguard pissed), the reason why Matt wasn't responding:

_I'm not saying this out loud, am I. Shit. _Mello began to become aware of his surroundings, most significant of which was Matt busying himself in the kitchen. All of a sudden, Mello was very very glad that Matt didn't hear the muddled thoughts currently making their way through his equally muddy brain.

_Shit,_ he thought for the third time, _I'm supposed to be the calm one. The one in control. And I can't do that if I'm not awake! How long have I been sleeping?_ Mello lay very still wondering this. _Okay. Okay. This is very simple. Just get up quietly like nothing happened, get some chocolate from the counter, and get back to work. Defeat Near. Capture Kira._

Well, that plan was fine, except for a few teensy little problems. For one thing, he felt a little too weak to move. And that basically means that he was so comfortable, wrapped loosely in comforters and sheets and pillows, that the idea of moving felt like suicide.

Mello inhaled deeply. _Wait – what the hell – this isn't my bed!_ With a slight shock, Mello realized that he was lying in Matt's bed, and Matt must have placed him there since his own bed was covered in candy wrappers and Kira files. At least, that's what he assumed from the musky smell of cigarettes that wafted about him, instead of the sickeningly sweet scent of chocolate that filled Mello's bedsheets.

See, that wasn't the only problem. Mello still hadn't opened his eyes. He just couldn't bring himself to. _Holy fuck, Matt's bed is as comfortable as…sin,_ thought Mello as he snuggled slightly into the warmth. He wanted to stay there, lying in _sin_, forever. _No, no…Defeat Near. Capture Kir—_"Ouch!"

Aaaand there was problem number three, rearing its ugly and loud head – he still hadn't eaten much of anything in God knows when (more like Matt knows when), and his stomach had just given a very angry how-dare-you-neglect-me growl, causing Mello to give a small shout.

The second the moan of hunger left Mello's parched lips, he regretted it. Ever since he had regained full consciousness (a total of about 45 seconds), he promised himself that he wasn't going to display any more weakness to Matt.

His stomach was roaring at him now. "Oooohhhhh…"

So much for that promise.

'Mello? Mello! You're awake!" Matt's voice, much softer than usual, flooded Mello's head, followed shortly by the sounds of hurried feet dashing towards the bed. Well, now Mello had to open his eyes. When he first managed to pry them open, the violent brightness that awaited him made him want to slam them shut again; the window shades were opened and it must be around midday. But in the next millisecond, the brightness was blocked out by an explosion of roses and lavender and tiger lily otherwise known as Matt's goggles framed by his hair. Lots and lots of color.

Mello couldn't think.

Maybe it was the all-too-quick contrast from sleep to nothing to bright to Matt. Or maybe it was just the hunger taking over him again. Or maybe it had something to do with Matt's huge, concerned eyes, unmasked by the goggles that were hastily pushed back into his hair, only 2 inches away from Mello's own.

Whatever _it _was, it took a while to go away, so they stayed like that for at least a full minute: Mello lying helpless on a bed that wasn't his, wrapped up neatly like a gift; Matt wide-eyed and nervous, with one hand on either side of Mello's head.

Finally, Mello got his voice back, if not all his energy. He shook his head from side to side, banging into Matt's wrists, and growled menacingly. He reminded Matt irresistibly of a lion right before it's tamed.

"If you don't get the fuck off me by the time I count to zero, I'm going to rip that stupid PSP out of your back pocket and shove it up your ass so hard it will pop that fucking cigarette out of your mouth."

It was the longest sentence he had said since regaining consciousness, and he was breathing raggedly by the end of it again. _Why do I always do that? Get mad at him when he's done nothing wrong?_ Mello pushed these thoughts out of his mind. _DEFEAT NEAR._ C_APTURE KIRA._

He did it because he was Mello, because he was strong and he wanted to show everyone that. He had to be on top. He was always in charge. It was almost like he was addicted to being cruel to others; it made him happy in a horribly self-loathing and sadistic way. It was in his personality. _That's not a good thing to be addicted to, Mello, _the voice inside him warned. He growled again, both at the voice inside him and Matt, who had NOT taken his threat very seriously. In fact, he laughed, and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it to the floor. He was still, for all intents and purposes, on top of Mello.

"You want me to get off you, Mello?" he asked. Matt was happy, blissfully happy. The truth was, Mello had been sleeping for almost 18 hours while Matt poured water down his throat every 2. Mat had been seriously worried that Mello would slip into a coma from lack of food. Just the fact that he was awake, and evidently stronger, made Matt inordinately relieved, despite the venom Mello was spitting at him. After all, it was the same venom he had been spitting for a lifetime.

"A child with half a brain could tell that, Matt." Any other person would have thought Mello was close to attacking the boy above him, but Matt knew he was still too weak -- and there was no real anger in his voice.

So, Matt did the opposite. He scooped up Mello in a very tight embrace.

He did it without thinking, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, he realized he had never once really embraced his friend, in all the years they had known each other. And he also realized that he really, really, wanted to.

"What the--!" Mello protested. He tried to push away, feebly, to no avail. And to his utter surprise, he found that some part of him – the part that was currently waggling its finger annoyingly and telling him to reciprocate Matt's kindness every once in a while – wanted to hug Matt back. There wasn't an ice cubes chance in hell of the fierce Mello admitting that though and it was the fierce Mello who controlled the arms – so he turned it on Matt. "Pshh," he scoffed. "You big baby."

Matt just laughed and held him tighter.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, you stupid idiot! You gotta break this damn 'Defeat Near, Capture Kira' addiction before it kills you!"

For a moment, Mello didn't say anything. That same annoying part of him knew Matt was right, but he just wouldn't admit it to himself. He couldn't. He couldn't even think about it. He pulled Matt closer, drawing a quick gasp from his friend and losing his own senses in the thick and spicy scent of Matt's hair.

"Promise me…" Matt's voice was deeper now, and serious. His eyes were pressed shut. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, Mello. I try…I try to take care of you. But s-sometimes--" here his voice broke "—it's not enough." _Dammit, Mello, if only you knew how much I cared. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you…_"Promise me."

Mello was shocked. He never knew Matt cared about him this much. He didn't know there was someone in the world who would miss him, truly miss him, if something….happened.

"I promise, Matt." And he meant it.

Neither of them mentioned the "Defeat Near, Capture Kira" issue. Mello didn't want to tell Matt that he had to keep working. There was no way he could stop. On some level, Matt knew this. At least he knew that for now, he couldn't talk Mello out of it. But he also knew that if the case continued to drive Mello to near suicide, he would interfere.

"Matt?" Mello's arms were still wound around Matt's neck, but they were shaking slightly from hunger.

"Mmm?" Matt responded, his breath warm against Mello's narrow throat.

"I'm starving."

Matt's eyes flew open and he pulled away. He gave another laugh.

"Wait right here," he said, laying Mello back onto the pillows before striding to the kitchen. "And there is absolutely NOTHING with chocolate!" Matt chuckled to himself as Mello gave an indignant protest. Before picking up the tray he had prepared, he reached for another cigarette. His hand stopped with the lighter halfway to his mouth. He had just remembered something. Many somethings, actually. Stuff Mello had said.

"_Put out that damn cigarette and get over here before I make you eat it." "Take out that lighter in front of these documents ONE MORE TIME and I will personally have it destroyed." "That smoke smell is ruining my chocolate, you bastard!"_ and the latest of course, "_If you don't get the fuck off me by the time I count to zero, I'm going to rip that stupid PSP out of your back pocket and shove it up your ass so hard it will pop that fucking cigarette out of your mouth." _

Matt had been smoking at least one cigarette every waking hour of his life since his 16th birthday. He knew it was bad for him. He was never quite sure why he didn't quit, it just seemed like he never had a good reason to try. Why should he?

At least, that's what he used to think.

Mello's angry voice was still replaying through Matt's head as he looked at his hands. He looked from the lighter in one hand to the almost-full package of cigarettes in the other. Then, in one swift motion, he yanked the still unlit cigarette from between his teeth, and for the first time in his life, dumped both handfuls into the garbage.


	3. The Angel Fallen

Matt stared at the pile of cigarettes and the lighter, now strewn amongst candy wrappers and trash he didn't want to think about. For a second, he was overcome by the intense urge to shift the lemon rinds and pick up the cigarettes, but Mello's voice was still ringing in his ears.

It never had occurred to Matt that Mello's thousands of smoking comments were more than just the threats and insults usually pouring out of Mello's mouth until this second.

Thinking back, Matt realized there was a different tone in Mello's voice when he talked about his friend's addiction. Still biting and harsh, of course, but there was a…_pleading _woven into the voice. Woven so tightly that Matt hadn't noticed it.

With Mello's voice echoing angrily in his head, Matt smiled to himself and turned to the counter. He picked up the tray he had set out with some difficulty. It was piled with pork teriyaki, rice, pasta, noodle soup, a large salad he knew Mello wouldn't touch without being practically force-fed, mashed potatoes, chicken fingers, dumplings, and a huge glass of water – basically all the food they had. It didn't have what he knew Mello wanted, (a mound of chocolate bigger than the bed) but Matt knew that Mello needed real food right now.

Matt wobbled to the kitchen door, nudged it open with his foot, and walked back into the bedroom. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Mello lying on the bed – still weak, but the fiery aura that seemed to radiate from him was certainly returning. There was just something about the way he was positioned that made Matt stop in his tracks.

Mello was lying, Matt supposed, in the same position that he was when Matt laid him on the bed a few minutes previously. He probably didn't have the strength to move much yet. He was sprawled across the mattress – _My mattress, _thought Matt wondrously, _Mello's actually lying on my mattress_ – with his arms and legs splayed about him.

Mello had managed to tug the covers up to his chin, shielding him from the thrashing snowstorm outside and shielding Matt from the daunting leather. All that was visible was his golden head and whitened face, both washed out from exhaustion. On the mattress, slightly askew, was the cross still hanging around Mello's neck on its long chain. Despite the pang that the uncharacteristic frailty sent through Matt, he felt his heart skip a beat. He stared at the person in his bed and his mind went blank. Only one thought remained.

_He looks like an angel._

And so he did. His head seemed so small, lost beneath blankets and pillows, but the spark of energy emanating from it was impossible to miss. His barely-opened-eyes were flashing golden from the bedside lamp, standing out almost inhumanly against his spectral skin. Aurous hair flowed around his face, framing it. _Like a halo, _Matt thought. And his smile…it wasn't the usual wide-eyed cocky grin that made mothers hurriedly cross to the other side of the street, pulling terrified children close behind. It was more of a gentle smirk that twitched up one corner of his lips.

Matt stared at the barely visible dimple peeking out from Mello's smiling cheek and almost broke down crying right there.

_No matter what I say, he's not going to give up. He's going to work and work until he solves this fucking case and "Defeats Near, Captures Kira." He's going to kill himself at it, I know he will, I know that if HE knows his death will accomplish those two damned things, he'll plant a bullet in his frontal lobe before I get a chance to say good-bye. We're dealing with someone who can kill you when they know your face, how the fuck are you supposed to capture that? He'll waste his entire life on this or die trying, it's a fucking obsession. And Mello never lets go when he gets addicted to stuff. Like when we were little and he picked up chocolate bars, we all thought he'd grow outta it. He never grew out of it, and he'll never grow out of this._

_Shit. I want a smoke so badly._

"Matt?"

The angel spoke.

"Why the fuck are you just staring at me? It's creeping me the hell out, man!" The face that had been pristine a second ago was contorting into confusion and desperation. Mello was dangerously close to dehydration. He gave a hoarse cough that jolted Matt into walking forward and placing the tray on Mello's comforter-covered lap.

_An angel, yes. But a fallen one, _Matt thought sadly. _One who should be gracing the world, but is throwing its grace into the pits of hell. _And even if telling Mello to quit was futile…_I'll never give up. I'm not gonna lie to myself. I know I won't stop trying to save his life til the day I die._

"You okay?" Mello's voice was concerned now. Matt shook himself mentally. This wasn't the time for thoughts like that. It was the time for getting some healthy food past the thin lips of his friend.

"Heh, yeah, of course!" Matt laughed out loud. "I was just thinking how the hell I'm gonna get this salad down your throat!" He took a seat on the bed next to Mello and laughed again at the angry grimace that crossed Mello's face.

"Don't worry about that. No green shit is going anywhere near my mouth."

"Be quiet and eat, Mello." Matt picked up a spoon and dipped it into the noodle soup.

"What are you doing?" Mello protested.

"Feeding you," Matt replied matter-of-factly. Mello scoffed.

"I can feed myself, you idiot." He freed his right hand from the tangle of blankets and moved it towards the spoon in Matt's hand, but it shook so much that Matt stopped him, frightened.

"Would you please just let me do it? You're still not fully recovered yet – and that leather vest is sleeveless, you'll freeze your arm off!"

"The house is heated, I'm fine," Mello insisted, but he tucked his arm back under the covers anyway. As if to contradict his statement, there was a particularly potent gust of snowy wind outside, causing Mello to subconsciously wriggle towards Matt's body heat. Matt smiled at him.

"That's better," he said, grinning inwardly at Mello's scathing glare. He could tell there was no real anger there – and he took advantage of that. Spooning more noodles, he mocked in a singsong voice, "Now open wide, my little Mello! Time for some dindins, and then it's back to sleepy night-night for you!"

Mello's eyes widened with rage; he opened his mouth for a furious comeback – and Matt stuck the spoon in. He fell into peals of laughter, unable to control himself at the completely dumbstruck look on Mello's face. The cheeks puffed out with noodle, the eyes stretched to dinner-plate-size with indignation and surprise, and the cherry on top: the silver spoon protruding from right under Mello's button nose.

When the laughter subsided, Matt removed the empty spoon.

"I-I couldn't resist!" he chuckled. "I'm sorry!"

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be," Mello promised. The threat didn't land as hard as it normally would have, since the evil glint in his eyes was undermined by the fact that he actually wasn't mad this time – and hunger. Matt's keen eyes did not let this last detail go unnoticed.

"Okay, okay, kill me later. Let's start with something more filling." He sliced off a piece of the pork teriyaki and guided it into Mello's mouth. And another piece. And another. And then water. And then some rice. And then a dumpling. And then another piece of pork.

The talking died down as Mello concentrated on the food. He was eating like a starving man, which he basically was. Matt didn't mind, though. He liked watching. It took his mind off wanting to brave the 15 below storm and buy a new pack of cigarettes, for one thing. Also, he missed Mello. It had been weeks since the two of them had simply hung out, and the past few days Mello had just been working himself to death, with no time for anything else. So, he watched.

He watched Mello lean forward slightly each time he took a bite. He watched the halo of hair drift up and down the pillows with each of these movements. He watched thin lips place themselves around morsels of food and he watched a tapered throat welcome the food eagerly. He watched the muscles work through the thinned skin in an exhausted jaw.

And he didn't think about smoking.

Once.

Instead, he thought about Wammy's House, their childhood.

_We all worked so hard. We studied to become the next L, to save lives, to solve crimes. That was our goal – we wanted to exist to help others. We were all so different, but we were the same: orphans who wanted to do good. But there was one thing that made Mello especially different._

_He was the only one to believe in God. He's been wearing that cross for as long as I can remember. He always told me, when I asked, that God was protecting him. God blessed him by giving him the chance to be L, and giving him the capabilities to do so. I never really believed in God…but I believed in Mello. The way he looked when he talked about it, it made me really feel like God was helping him. _

Matt broke out of his reverie and looked down at Mello, who was almost finished. His eyes traced from the glittering eyes to the slender neckline – to the cross on the necklace.

_I hope God is protecting him now. I hope God doesn't forget his insane fallen angel._

_And I hope this fallen angel hasn't forgot his God._

"Matt?" Mello looked sleepy again. "I think I want to go back to sleep now." Matt looked down at the nearly empty tray.

"Hey, good job! You must feel better now!" Matt beamed as his friend nodded blearily. "Sure, you should go back to sl--"

"After all, I have to get back to work tomorrow."

A cold dagger pierced through Matt's stomach. He had somehow hoped that Mello forgot about his obsession with the case.

"Mello, I really think that--" He paused. Mello was already snuggling back into the pillows, his eyes closing with a sigh.

"Hmm?" Mello murmured.

Matt couldn't talk to Mello about quitting now.

"that…you should get some more rest," he finished quietly.

"Mmkay."

Matt picked up the tray and stood up.

"Hey, Matt?" A nearly inaudible voice wafted from between the pillows.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

A bittersweet smile pulled up the corners of Matt's mouth as he walked into the kitchen. Tomorrow, he would confront Mello. Tonight, he was going to eat something himself, maybe play a few games, and fall asleep in Mello's bed. There was nothing more to say then:

"You're welcome."

**Sorry it took me longer to update this time, I had some trouble with this chapter. The beginning disappointed me, so I had to write it over and make the middle part more interesting. I hope the final product came out all right; let me know what you think. Oh yeah…and it's winter, apparently. Heh. I don't remember if it was in the manga, but the coldness outside makes the scene cozier, I suppose. I wanted to touch on Mello's religious side just a bit, since he really does seem like a martyr to me – hope it doesn't offend anyone in any way…**

**Once again, if I owned Death Note, it would have ended very, very differently. So I don't. Sadly.**


	4. Chocolate and Cigarettes

**A/N School started! And the longer it progresses, the less time I'll have to write sob But I'll try to keep posting, since I love it so much - The idea of this chapter was at the persistent request of SOMEONE (you know who you are—happy birthday!). I guess I should bring up the fact that the "slight shonen-ai – nothing graphic" warning comes into play in this chapter. Anyways, I liked the idea – so enjoy! And I hate asking for reviews, but I do like to see opinions on my writing, so any comments/criticism is most definitely appreciated - **

**That being said, if I owned Death Note, episode 25 would have ended entirely differently. So, I do not. Damn. **

CRASH! 

The loud noise yanked Matt harshly away from the deep sleep he had wrapped himself in.

"What the--?!"

His eyes were forced half closed by the goggles that were currently making an all-too-familiar acquaintance with his forehead. _Dammit I bet there's a mark there,_ he thought drearily, pushing the offending goggles up and rubbing his aching head. He was still wearing the pants he was wearing the night before, having forgotten to change out of them before falling asleep involuntarily after watching Mello drift off, but he had discarded the shirt and vest (he turned the heat all the way up for Mello's sake). Chocolate smears were everywhere, as was inevitable from sleeping in Mello's bed: on his skin, on his bare chest and back, and in his tousled hair. The cracked mirror above the dresser told him he was right – there were thick goggle indentations on his forehead. Crumpled sheets cascaded over a pale shoulder as dark eyes scoured the bedroom for the source of the disruption, their owner moaning slightly with tiredness.

In other words, the kid in Mello's bed was a fucking sexy bastard looking hotter than he ever had before.

It shouldn't be allowed.

But it is, and since Matt didn't know he was breaking any unwritten laws of gorgeousness, he continued to wake up enough to realize that the bed next to him was empty.

"Mello?" He looked around, shaking the tiredness out of his eyes.

"Matt?!" Mello's voice came from the kitchen, about an octave higher than usual. "Y-you're awake?"

It's a question often heard: "_You're awake?", _otherwise phrased as _"Are you still sleeping?" _Too often heard, really, when you think about it. Because the answer is usually so obvious it's not exactly worth asking.

"No, Mello. I'm dreaming about sugar plums and rainbows," he shot back, pushing the covers off. "Mmph…what happened?" He walked slowly over to the kitchen; his heart beating normally again since it sounded like Mello was in one piece, at least.

"N-nothing! D-don't come in here, I'm fine! Everything's fine! Go back to bed, Matt, it's like 6 in the morn--"

Mello's abnormally high voice came to an abrupt halt at Matt's expression when he reached the kitchen.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"

Mello cringed at the loudness of Matt's voice, which was shrill enough to rival the shrieking snowy gales outside. But it wasn't an angry voice. In fact, in the next second, Matt slumped down the floor in peals of laughter.

Mello was sprawled awkwardly on the floor, covered only in a sheet, his cross, and (presumably) boxers. The sheet was wrapped around him several times, probably because Matt had insisted he remove his sweaty leather clothes and it was drafty in the kitchen. His uncomfortable position was probably due to a fall that had caused the crash. And what had Mello slipped on?

"Chocolate?" Matt choked through his laughs. "Did you…slip on chocolate?"

The question seemed fairly pointless, actually. There was a half-empty king size bottle of Hershey's syrup just grazing Mello's fingertips, and there was brown, sweet-smelling gook on the floor, the counter, and, somehow, the ceiling – in addition to all over Mello.

"No! I did not slip on chocolate," Mello growled. "And would you stop goddamn laughing?"

To give Matt some credit, he did make an honest attempt to calm his laughter. But the sight of Mello – Mello! – on the floor, so vulnerable, so covered in chocolate…it was just too much.

"Well, then, Mello," he said as he fought to keep his face straight, "…if you didn't slip on chocolate, then why are you on the floor surrounded by it?"

Mello made to get up, but slammed right back onto the floor painfully. Matt's laughter silenced itself as Matt involuntarily moved closer to his fallen friend.

"What happened?" His voice was serious now.

Mello peered up at him shamefacedly through blonde lashes tinged with chocolate.

"I-I really wanted some chocolate…and you were still asleep, so I thought you wouldn't notice! But I couldn't find any! The bars weren't in the cabinets!"

Matt mentally kicked himself. He had hidden all the chocolate he could find before falling asleep on Mello's bed, thinking that Mello should be eating healthier foods. _But one or two chocolate bars would have done less damage than that cut…_Matt gazed at the crimson droplets pooling on Mello's knee and felt a stab of guilt. _He must have scraped it on the linoleum…ouch._

"But…I knew that in the refrigerator, there was chocolate syrup….so I thought I'd get it out and have some…" He wasn't looking at Matt now. He was looking at the floor below him, as if he didn't want to say the next words. "And I got the top open, so I was gonna go eat some…and then….I don't know exactly what happened…my legs kind of just gave out…"

Matt inhaled sharply. _If I remember right, muscular weakness after long periods of disuse is to be expected. Muscle atrophy or something like that, we learned about it at Wammy's, but Mello hasn't thought about anything but Kira lately, he wouldn't have remembered. Shit. I don't remember how you're supposed to treat this!_

Matt looked at Mello and cringed inwardly. Pushing up his goggles again, he moved over to the still-struggling chocolately mass and placed a sturdy arm under its sheet-clad knees once again.

"W-what are you doing?" Mello's eyes were panicky, he didn't like this much touchy feely crap, and he had already been carried by Matt once.

"Getting you washed up before you eat something and get some exercise," Matt replied. His other arm was already around Mello's shoulders and he was walking to the bathroom, pleased to feel more weight in his arms than before. "You haven't walked more than a few feet for days; you have to move those muscles again."

"Well, put me down, I can walk to the bathroom myself!" But Mello made no attempt to loosen the warm limbs encircling him. They both knew what happened the last time Mello stood on his own – the result was currently painting Matt's arm scarlet and causing Mello's knee to shake slightly with blood loss.

Matt placed him gingerly on the toilet seat.

_Oh that's right…I think you have to bathe the muscles in warm water! But…shit. You're also supposed to rinse cuts this deep with cold water._ Matt's Wammy's House trainings were rushing back and conflicting with each other.

"Um…okay…well, let's just get you cleaned up a bit first then…" He took a washcloth and moistened it with antiseptic. "Here – give me your knee."

Mello looked torn. On one hand, the blood was running steadily down his leg, and he seriously needed it cleaned off. On the other hand, Mello NEVER let anyone touch him. Not even Matt. Even as a kid, he was never into that touchy-feely stuff. He'd never go to the nurse when he was hurt; he'd try and take care of himself even though that usually ended up with him getting even more hurt. When he got older, the only people he touched were those he killed and those he slept with.

It's funny how often those two groups of people became one and the same in Mello's life.

Letting Matt take care of him had been a serious blow to his self-esteem when he was too weak to care – now, when he was fully conscious, it was even more of an insult. But as his blood dripped out of him, he felt pieces of his pride go .

"Okay." He pulled up the sheet enough for Matt to see the scraped knee.

"This is going to sting, all right?" Matt looked up at the austere face. It scoffed at him.

"So?"

Ah, there it was. The hard uncaring that was part of being Mello. Matt could tell there was more than that, though…the skin around his cheeks was tensed, the lips were set in a firm line, the eyes were determinedly blank. Mello was steeling himself for pain, and preparing to not let a bit of it show.

And if it had been anyone else cleaning the cut, they wouldn't have seen any pain whatsoever. Mello had trained his face well. At his command, it would display anger, yes, irritation, and a carnal pleasure whenever he won something (or ate chocolate). But it would never show pain to anyone who didn't know him.

Matt could see it, though, no matter how much he didn't want to. He tried to focus on the knee, but out of his peripheral vision he saw the pupils dilate and the chin quiver.

"Er...okay…I'm done here," he said presently. _Crap. Now we have to get the chocolate off him, then—what was it? Oh right…bathe the muscles in warm water._

Mello covered his leg hastily with the sheet and made to get up.

"No, wait!"

"What?"

"You need to get the chocolate off!" Matt pushed him gently back onto the seat and forced back a laugh. He knew it shouldn't be funny, but Mello's look of frustration framed by a large smear of chocolate on his cheek just made for a very comical sight.

"What chocolate? Look--" Mello started wiping the smudges off his arms with the sheet. "—see, it's all better!"

Matt caught his hand with a laugh, breaking some of the tension.

"For one thing, I would like it if you didn't get your chocolate all over my sheets." He looked Mello straight in the eye; somehow, when Matt caught his hand, he had brought their faces almost nose to nose. "For another, you definitely still have some chocolate on you." Matt's nose filled with the sultry scent of the syrup on Mello's cheek.

Mello gave on more wipe of the bedsheet, this time on his leg.

"Where?" he asked cockily. His eyes bored into Matt's, they were inches apart.

Matt laughed again, that smudge on such a confident face just made everything so funny.

"Right--" he couldn't help himself "—here."

Before Matt knew what he was doing, his tongue snaked out from between his lips and lightly licked away the chocolate. It was very gentle, just the very tip of his tongue, just enough for Matt to taste rich chocolatey goodness…and something else. It tasted indescribably like _Mello_. Matt's nose barely caressed a slim white cheek as his tongue grazed the side of it. All he could taste was deliciousness. All he could smell was warm and sweet. All he could feel was smooth skin and breath that was not his wafting into his ear. It tasted better than any cigarette ever had.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MATT?!" Mello protested violently, pushing him off. "You coulda just wiped it off!"

Matt sat back, startled. He wasn't just surprised at the fact that he had LICKED his friend. He realized something. Since he had been woken up by that crash, he hadn't wanted to smoke once.

"Uh—right. Sorry. Here, wipe your legs with this--" He handed Mello another towel, this one soaking with warm water. Mello started to wipe, eyeing Matt suspiciously, while Matt sat on the rim of the bathtub, thinking.

"You know, you don't need to stay here watching me, Matt," Mello spoke up. "And if you try to lick me again, I'm gonna have to hurt you." He certainly looked like he meant _that_. "Why don't you go out and have a smoke or something?" This, on the other hand, it was clear that he did NOT mean. The words were oozing with bitterness in a way that made it plain: smoking was the last thing Mello wanted him doing.

"No thanks, Mello. I don't really want to smoke much anymore. After all, it does kinda suck for you." Matt responded with a grin that widened when he saw a spark of happiness flash through Mello's eyes at his words. "Sorry about the lick thing…I just noticed, you're pretty right about chocolate. It's fucking tempting! I think I'll start buying some for myself!"

Mello grinned back.

"Well, can't argue with you there. But come on, chocolate will never be good enough for me to want to LICK it off you! So next time…eat a candy bar or something. PLEASE."

Matt gave a one-sided smile and nudged his friend with his foot while he unwrapped a bandage for the knee.

"Hey, it's you and your chocolate fetish that got us into this mess in the first place!"

"Fetish??" Mello's eyes widened. "You're talking fetishes here? What about you and that Taiwanese girl and the Final Fantasy cosplay thing? Don't even get me started on you and your weird fetishes! I remember that morning after, you were so fucking happy that you got to…"

Matt partially tuned out Mello's rant as he started to wrap the bandage around the sterilized leg. _Yeah, maybe the fetish thing was a wrong choice of words…I can't believe he still remembers that Final Fantasy chick! But jeez…that chocolate syrup was damn good! It was so sweet! I don't remember Hersheys ever being that sweet!_

And then he realized something else.

_Maybe it wasn't the chocolate that tasted that sweet._

Yeah, Matt's smoking problem wasn't going to be too much of a problem anymore. It was gonna be hard to quit, but he knew he had to do it. For Mello's sake. The guy needed him: to stick around, to not get lung cancer, hell, to listen to stories about their teenage sexual exploits. Besides, Matt thought…

_Who needs cigarettes when you've got Mello?_

**Hope you liked it…a little more shonen-ai then I'm used to writing, I'm very inexperienced at writing about like, tongues and stuff, so I hope my inexperience didn't show too much! And if it did…ok well it's like 1 AM xD Anyways, let me know what you think! **


	5. Withdrawal

**A/N Tons of thanks to all who reviewed! It's very encouraging - Extra thanks (and here, have a spoonful of Near-flavored sherbet) to the person who inspired this chapter! **

**This was written at 1am. Apologies for grammar, spelling, crappiness….etc. **

**You know the drill: If I owned Death Note, there would be longer flashbacks to Wammy's House and that stupid Yotsuba thing would have been much shorter; I love to hear what you think.**

"No it most certainly is not, you wrinkly old bitch! And learn to keep your voice down!"

Matt threw an apologetic grin to the scandalized elderly couple before yanking Mello away from them. Snow flurries blustered around Mello and his human crutch. Though the moaning winds were loud, they hadn't blocked out the comment the now-terrified woman had muttered to her husband when they walked passed Matt supporting Mello.

"_Look, honey! Isn't that one of those nice young homosexual couples?_

Matt was momentarily grateful for the weather; it provided a ready-made excuse for the pink blush warming his cheeks. Though they were NOT a couple, Matt had to admit they kinda looked the part. Mello definitely needed to get some walking done outside of the apartment, no matter how many times that weathergirl (whose tops were cut low enough to raise any guy's body heat by at least 30 degrees) insisted it was the day to "stay inside today, folks!" Neither of them trusted him to hold his own weight though, so they walked awkwardly, with Matt's arm gripping Mello's waist firmly, and Mello's mittened hands clutching Matt's jacket. It was easy to see how the wretched woman made the mistake…from the angle she had been walking at, you couldn't _exactly _see where Mello's right hand was.

"Shh, Mello, she didn't know what she was talking about," Matt grinned. "You can't just go around yelling at old ladies, you know."

"I c-c-can do whate-e-ever I damn well w-w-want to, M-matt!" Matt peered through his frosted goggles concernedly. Mello's teeth were chattering so hard it was actually a wonder he could talk at all.

"You okay? You like you're freezing. Maybe that's enough exercise for today…" He moved to start walking Mello homewards, but Mello planted his feet firmly in the snow.

"N-no! I'm f-f-f-f-f…." He pressed his blue lips together as tight as he could to stop the chattering. "F-f-f-f-f...!"

Matt gave a little chuckle despite himself.

"Mel, when you can't SAY fine, I know you aren't. Now c'mon. We've walked enough." He tightened his arms around Mello's shivering frame and tugged him back down the ivory-coated sidewalk.

"Matt, I'm FINE!" Mello finally burst out. With that last word though, two things happened that made Matt's heart skip a beat. First of all, Mello's violent shout had almost caused him to slip headfirst into a pile of snow, and Matt's arms grasped him closer involuntarily. Secondly, with that word, a puff of warm air was expelled angrily from Mello's mouth, as usually happens when one talks loudly while it is very very cold. In most situations, no one pays much attention to that puff of air.

But Matt didn't see just a puff of air.

He saw smoke.

_Shit. I can remember how it tastes. It's warm and full and round and oh so good! Well, it's not good. It's evil. It's evil, Matt! Don't do it! Don't think about it! Don't think about inhaling those devilishly delicious fumes. Don't think about that familiar feeling of that thin baton sitting comfortably between your lips. Don't—_

_Too late._

"Um…M-matt?" Mello's voice was vibrating with cold, though they were already inside.

"W-what?" asked Matt, startled.

"We're here," Mello replied, nudging his elbow towards the door of their apartment (his hands were still entwined in Matt's jacket). "You wanna, you know, open the door?"

"Oh! Oh, right." Matt reached for the keys.

_Think about Mello! He doesn't want me to smoke! I can't! I can't hurt him! I have to quit! C'mon, Matty, you can do this!_

His body, however, was telling him otherwise. His throat was getting sorer by the moment, needing that smooth smoky feeling. And now his head was starting to throb, each pulsation screaming "Cig.gar.rette.Cig.gar.ette."

"M-Mello? How bout you just take a nap here," he said out loud, guiding Mello to his bed. "go on, and then afterwards I'll make you some food, okay?"

"'kay," Mello was still shivering; he allowed Matt to remove his whitened clothes and tuck him under about seven comforters. He didn't even protest, aside from an embarrassed moan, when Matt ran his feverish fingertips along Mello's icy cheeks.

_We only went 4 blocks…what's the matter with me?! I can't be this fucking weak!! I've wasted so much time that I'm sure Near isn't wasting!! I have to get back to work!_

But already Mello's eyelids were sliding shut. The walk had taken more out of him than either of them suspected.

Meanwhile, Matt was pacing back and forth in the living room after closing the door on Mello's closed eyes. He picked up a Gameboy and threw it down minutes later, furious that it failed to distract him for the first time ever. He went to the refrigerator, but found that his throat seemed to have been coated in sandpaper and slammed the door shut again. He tried to fall asleep on Mello's bed, but every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was smoke.smoke.smoke.

He got up, went back to the living room, and resumed pacing. A violent battle was currently waging itself in his head, which as you may imagine, did not help the headache situation on bit.

_I want to smoke. Screw it, I NEED to smoke. _

_Calm yourself, Matt. You don't need anything. You're stronger than this._

_Um, apparently NOT! _

_You know how bad it is for you. _

_So what? Given the way things are going, Mello's probably gonna get me involved in some scheme where I die young anyways. Why not enjoy life while I can?_

_Cigarettes can kill you._

_So can hanging around Mello._

_What happens if the cigarettes get to you before you get shot, or Kira'd, or whatever it is you're expecting to happen?!_

_At least I'll die happy!_

_Can you really be happy knowing that you're leaving the one person who you care about behind?_

H stopped pacing.

_Maybe Mello doesn't want you to quit just for yourself. Where would he be without you?_

Matt had to admit. His inner voice had a serious point. But even though his mind was made up, his body had a different idea. His chest was tightening uncomfortably, causing his breath to come in short gasps.

_Dammit! Can't let Mello hear me!_

Matt wrapped his arms around his chest and ran to the corner of the living room farthest from the bedroom. He pulled his knees under his chin and banged his forehead against them. His head was pulsing more painfully then ever.

SMOKE!

SMOKE!

SMOKE!, it seemed to said, almost seductively.

No!

No!

"No…" Matt moaned out loud. "No, no, no, I can't, I can't, Mello doesn't want me to, I can't!" The wind outside laughed at him, flinging irate buckets of snow at the windows. See? it cackled. You can't buy cigarettes even if you want to! You can't smoke! You can't!

"Can't, can't, can't!"

He yanked the goggles off his head and threw them across the room, not caring where they landed: all of a sudden they just seemed too tight. He buried his face into his knees with eyes squeezed shut. Were tears spilling out of them? Was the floor rocking or was he? He didn't know, didn't care, he just needed to fucking SMOKE but he can't he can't no no no no no no---what?

Was someone…hugging him?

It certainly felt like it, he thought he could feel slender arms encircling his shaking frame, and a small head embedded in the crook of his neck. But that was impossible. He must be hallucinating. There was no one in the house except for Mello, and Mello never hugged. The idea was laughable. So Matt must simply have gone insane.

He heard a little laugh, and it took a second to realize it came from between his own lips.

"So I've gone insane."

The arms pulled tighter, and to Matt's incredible surprise, a tiny voice sounded from the crook of his neck, exactly where that head felt like it was.

"I don't think so, Matt."

It was Mello.

Mello was hugging him.

Mello was sitting on the floor, his knees pressing into Matt's, his spidery hands holding Matt steady.

The pain stopped.

Only for an instant, but it was enough.

Enough to show Matt that he COULD quit. He WAS stronger. And as long as he had Mello, he had a reason never to touch a cigarette again.

They sat like that for God (and no, not Kira) knows how long. Matt's body still wanted to smoke, but Matt's mind was made up. He was shaking, the pressure in his chest was nearly unbearable, and his head was pounding in his ears. But who cares? Mello was there.

"Matt?"

Matt could tell that Mello knew. Mello knew exactly why Matt was in pain, and that wasn't good! Matt had to stay strong! He couldn't let Mello know that he was hurting, or why! He couldn't let Mello know who he was doing it for!

"U-um…yes?"

"Thank you."

Matt had just gotten over the supreme shock that A) Yes, Mello knew why he was hurting and who he was going through it for and B) Mello had actually thanked him for it when he felt frozen lips breathe four more words into his ear that shocked him again.

"You can do this."

And with that, Mello pulled away and strode back to the bedroom.

"Now get some rest so you can make me some breakfast soon!" He turned and grinned devilishly. Then, in a softer tone: "There's a box of nicotine patches at the back of the second shelf in my dresser." He laughed gently at Matt's completely dumbstruck face. "I knew you'd come around someday."

**Argh school in less than 8 hours! Why do I do this to myself…anyways, this actually seems like a pretty good place to end the story…but I don't think I'm gonna do that. xD I just love these guys too much.**


	6. Waking Up and Breaking Down

**A/N: Just wanted to mention – in my mind, they're not OOC in this fic. This is who Mello is, at least around Matt. That's only my opinion though…**

**This withdrawal stuff may seem like an exaggeration, but it's really not. If you've been smoking heavily since a young age, especially when you have little else that's constant in your life, it's almost impossible to quit. Unless you have the right motivation, and you are VERY determined ) I'm proud of anyone who quits smoking successfully!!**

**Anyways….semiconscious Matt time…here we go.**

In.

Out.

Of consciousness, that is.

Drift in. Pain. The ache, the need that wouldn't leave.

Drift out. Was it peace? Not really. It wasn't even sleep, but it was close. Close enough?

Yeah, right. It was more a dulling of the senses, a slight numbing of the pain….the ache wasn't as acute, the need wasn't a roaring monster. But it was still an angry and frustrated one, and it definitely wasn't dead yet.

How many times had Matt wanted to give up, to give in…he lost count. He also lost tract of time entirely, how long he had been suffering the violent withdrawal. And through it all, his mind was tearing itself apart with worry. Not worry for himself though:

_How is Mello getting food? Does he even know how to cook? Is he strong enough to go out and buy stuff? Is there anything left in the cabinets? Is he even strong enough to give himself a shower!?_

Matt was furious at himself for being so fucking helpless. He was trapped on Mello's bed, in a haze of unmoving agony. Every time he tried to open his eyes, he was assaulted by the harsh light of the lamps they never bothered to buy shades for. Each of these attempts always wound up with his head burrowed even deeper in the pillows and his mind burrowed deeper in self-hate.

-----------------------------

After the worst of the symptoms finally diminished, Matt realized that he wasn't dead.

Which he really should have been. It had to have been more than three days on the bed, and he hadn't even opened his eyes fully, much less ate or drank. Apparently, those half-dreams of someone propping up his sweaty head and tilting water down his throat weren't dreams after all…Matt decided to confirm this someone-is-keeping-me-alive theory the next time he felt the hand under his skull again.

He didn't have long to wait. Soon after making this half-conscious decision, he felt it – thin fingers wove themselves through his hair, gently bending his neck forward.

_Now! Open your eyes!_

With what felt like an inhuman effort, Matt pried his throbbing eyes open, just a fraction.

_Fuck. I'm dead._

Eh, it wasn't a very logical thought. But Matt's brain wasn't exactly functioning on the Wammy-approved level at the moment. Besides, what would you think if you were on the verge of a coma, then woke up to find a light-haired, cross-wearer _gently_ feeding you? It's gotta be an angel, right?

Except this angel seemed to be wearing leather pants. And no shirt. 

All the more reason for Matt to be in the midst of a cigarette-deprived dream delirium – no one could ever describe Mello as "gently" doing anything unless they were:

dreaming

joking

lying

mentally challenged.

"You're awake!"

Oh God – it was unmistakably Mello's voice. Could this really be happening?

But now, Matt was remembering more. About how his withdrawal had almost driven him insane, and how he was rescued by Mello's….embrace? Well, that couldn't be righ---

_What th—I think it's happening again!_

Yes. Mello had flung his cool arms around Matt's feverish neck and was holding him tightly.

"A-are you okay?" Matt croaked. Mello laughed weakly.

"I think I'm the one who's supposed to be asking that question, you idiot!" He brushed stray hairs out of Matt's eyes – who could barely process that this was happening – and smiled. SMILED!! "Yes, I'm okay. Thanks to you, really." His face grew serious and his next words were much quieter. "It was always thanks to you."

Matt looked away, blushing slightly. It wasn't making any sense. _Mello_ was supposed to be the one who needed looking after. _Matt_ was supposed to be the one doing this, thanking Mello for giving him the strength to quit…and honestly, giving him a reason to live. What else did Matt live for? What else did he care about? Who would take the time to save him? Nothing, no one, it was all Mello…he should be thanking Mello…and instead, this was the third time that Mello was thanking HIM. But oh…Matt's mind was starting to work again. This new grateful Mello could be advantageous.

"So, Mel…you're saying that you owe me?" Matt asked casually. Mello looked taken aback.

"Erm…put it that way again and I'll shove a gun up your ass and pull the trigger…but yeah, I guess I kinda do."

Trying hard not to think about that entirely plausible Mello version of murder, Matt decided to push his luck.

"T-then…would you consider something for me? I-I mean -- " here Matt's words dissolved into a fit of hoarse coughs that ripped at his throat. Through the hacks that shook his body, he felt the bed creak as Mello cringed at his pain. He grinned inwardly – maybe, just maybe, Mello would listen to him. "I-I mean…okay. Here's what I think. I think you should…um…well, for a while now I've kinda thought you've kinda been…er…"

"If you don't spit out what you're gonna say in another three seconds, I'll--"

_Dammit, NOT THE TIME for another terrifying Mello-threat!!_

"IwantyoutogiveuptheKiracase!"

Silence.

Mello cocked his head.

"Excuse me?" He said it very slowly. Matt couldn't meet his eyes.

"It's just….you've been working so hard, you've practically worked yourself to death, and you're spending so much time and effort on this goddamn case, and you're getting practically nowhere!" Fuck, he never should have started this…but Matt couldn't stop now, years of pent-up frustration that had escalated over the past month just kept pouring out of his dry mouth. "You've been driving yourself over the edge, not paying attention to anything else – or anyone else! You're not even 25, Mello, and you're throwing your life away. This case might kill you, you know that, and I know – I _know_ that you're trying to help people and save lives, but you're ruining yours! There is more to the world than crime and death and defeating Near and capturing Kira! Jesus Christ, Mello – do you have any idea how hard it is to watch you destroy yourself?! All this time, I've been watching you waste everything on becoming the next L, and I haven't said anything…but I can't just sit back and watch you die over this stupid addiction anymore!"

Matt's voice grew into a full-blown hoarse shout at the end. It was only after he finished his rant that he felt the tears streaming down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried. It was probably years ago, and his eyes seemed to be making up for lost time by drenching him in tears now.

"And you probably think I'm crazy and you probably hate me now and you're probably not going to listen, but you know what? I honestly don't give a fuck, Mello. I said it…I _finally_ said it….and all I can do now is pray that you listen. If you don't, well, I have no idea what I'm gonna do. But I said it. I said it." He was babbling now, and rocking back and forth in a teary mass of bedsheets, but he honestly didn't care.

"Matt." The one syllable was dripping painfully with nonemotion. Cold hands pushed Matt's shivering shoulders back into the bed and tucked the covers back under his chin. He wiped away the tears with his knuckles.. "Go to back to sleep. It's very late."

"B-but—what are you going t--"

"Go to sleep. We will talk about it in the morning."

And he walked out of the room.


	7. The Rescue

**A/N **

**LAST CHAPTER ALERT! I love them so much…but I can't keep this plot forever. Besides, I can't bring myself to write what happens next…we all know it anyways. I'll hopefully start to work on a new MelloxMatt soon…**

**For the longest time (okay like a week) I had no idea how to end this. Then, when I wasn't thinking about Matt or Mello or Death Note at all (yes, there are those times, though they're rare xD) I was listening to my iPod on shuffle, and the song "The Rescue" by American Hi-Fi came on. It used to be one of my favorite songs, but I hadn't heard it in months. And then…I realized that it fit this story way too much to not include. I hope you think it fits too! And seriously, it's a great song (though I don't take any credit for it) – I highly recommend it! Oh, and please don't skim the song lyrics in this chapter like I sometimes do when there are lyrics in fics xx;; because I think it works so well! **

**Erm…one line was stolen from Brokeback Mountain….ugh sorry, it just seemed to go so perfectly! **

**Oh yeah, and just like in my other Mello and Matt fic…Wammy's is near a forest. …It just fits ok?! xD**

**Please let me know what you think of the ending!**

**If I owned Matt, Mello or Death Note, L and Light's tennis match would have gone on a hell of a lot longer.**

_I wish we could go back._

_To the beginning_

_Cuz there's something missing_

_From your eyes._

Music was playing in Matt's head. A song he had head a long time ago, a song that used to make him and Mello laugh, because of course flying was the silliest superpower. Wait…what the fuck. Where did thoughts about flying come from?

_We lost a lifetime_

_When you disappeared_

The music wouldn't stop playing, and neither would the memories that currently glided through Matt's head. Him and Mello playing video games and sharing chocolate. Him and Mello cutting class to build their tree house, just on the outskirts of the woods by Wammy's. Mello yelling at Matt for getting them into trouble on the rare occasions they got caught, even though it was always Mello's idea in the first place. Mello laughing afterwards, to show Matt that he was never really mad. Mello devouring textbooks before tests, to make up for the cut classes and beat Near on every exam. And those nights they spent, lying on their beds, talking about what it would be like to be the next L. What they would be like 10 years in the future.

Funny—those conversations about the future. Sometimes Mello would be the president, and Matt would be his Secretary of Defense, and they would wipe out crime. Sometimes Mello would be the head of the CIA, and Matt would be the top spy. But no matter what, they were always together. It just never occurred to them that there could be any other way.

_And now I am crawling_

_Back to you._

Well, Mello hadn't exactly crawled. But the music was making Matt's semiconscious mind wake up enough to realize most of his pain had gone. With this realization came the rush of memories more recent than hot summer evenings long years ago. Last night…he had fallen asleep before Mello had answered him…

Matt shot up in bed.

"Mello?" He could hear the desperation shattering his voice as he waited for the response he knew wasn't coming.

"Mello?" He tried again, louder now. Every time the word escaped his lips, he knew he was setting himself up for a higher plummet when the answer wouldn't come.

"Mello." This time it wasn't a question. He was alone, with only the stupid radio playing.

Wait.

The radio hadn't been on in years – Mello had said it distracted him from the case (that fucking case ruins everything) – but now it was playing, very loudly.

Matt crawled over to the edge of the bed. The song was actually a CD, the same one they had listened to when they were much younger. Someone had dug it up from the piles of crap in the closet that had an unwritten label on the door saying "THE PAST—ENTER AND YOU'RE DOOMED TO REPEAT IT" and placed in the obsolete radio on the bedside table. Of course, it had been Mello who put it there, and set it to "repeat song". But why?

"Why didn't he just give me an answer, or at least leave me a goddamn note?!" Yeah, Matt knew he was talking to himself. He also knew that the corners of his eyes were burning with tears. "What the fuck…I haven't cried in a decade, and now it's twice in 24 hours?!" He slumped down into Mello's bed, hugging his comforter-wrapped knees and smelling chocolate and…God, there was no other word for it. Smelling chocolate and _Mello,_ just Mello. It smelled so good that he hated how his tears were getting all over the damn sheets.

That wretched song was still playing, filling the empty room with words that meant nothing now.

"Why the HELL did you turn on the radio, Mello?" Matt moaned into his knees. He had never felt so alone. And even if Mello did come back, which he doubted, there was no way he'd tell Matt where he had been, or why he had left. He probably wouldn't quit the case.

"And why did I say that…this is all my fault…why did I have to break down…"

What hurt the most though, is that he wouldn't tell Matt WHY he was killing himself over Kira. And if he did give a reason, it would probably be a lie.

_Summer's the season_

_But you're cold and freezing_

_If there's a reason_

_It's a lie._

Matt's head shot up. Huh. What a coincidence. Maybe that's why Mello put on the song – to taunt him. Mello was always good at predicting other people's moves, getting in their heads.

Matt sighed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know why Mello had left him. And he didn't know what to do now that he was on his own.

He didn't want to eat.

He didn't want to turn off the radio.

He didn't want to move.

He didn't want to smoke.

He just sat on Mello's bed, breathing in memories, listening to lost syllables, crying regret.

How long did he stay like that?

Who cares.

He didn't.

He just squeezed his eyes shut and let the tears stain Mello's sheets.

After a while, the words started to be words again, instead of meaningless sounds. And he cried even harder, hating himself for it since he knew Mello despised crying, because he was starting to figure out why Mello had set the song. The chorus rang through his ears.

_I wish I could fly_

There it was, that stupid flying thing.

_I know I could save us somehow._

_You thought you were safe and sound_

_But you need a hero now._

_You've gotta believe_

_Even with broken wings_

_I've come to your rescue_

_And you can't rescue me._

The last three lines made Matt's cigarette-weakened lungs almost stop functioning. The fallen angel was still trying to save the world. At any cost.

The wind screamed, the snow wept, his legs cramped, his thumb itched -- but Matt didn't move. He couldn't.

BANG!

The front door thrashed open. Cold air flooded the room, but Matt didn't move – this was a dream, nothing more. Or maybe he had starved to death.

Bang!thumpthumpthumpthumpswishweakchucklecreak.

If this was still real life, those would have been the door closing, footsteps, the sound of a coat being tossed onto the floor, Mello laughing as he saw Matt in what was essential a fetal position, and the bed protesting as Mello sat down on it. But Matt didn't want to hope.

"Yeah, it's me."

The song was still looping, but that was unmistakably Mello's voice.

_And now I am crawling_

_Back to you._

It was also unmistakably Mello's hand forcing Matt's head up, so he had to look at the unguarded eyes staring at him.

"Matt. I'm s-so sorry." Mello's voice actually broke.

Matt felt his face spreading into a grin.

"Oh, God! Don't be sorry," he said, flinging his arms around Mello, "it's okay, it's all okay now that you're back!" He could feel Mello's form tense beneath his embrace.

"No. You don't understand. I-I shouldn't have come back."

Matt pulled away, though still grasping his shoulders firmly, still beaming through his blotchy face.

"Of course you should have! Look, I'm really sorry I got all emotional last ni--"

"NO!" Mello shouted. Matt flinched. "No, no, no, NO! You shouldn't be apologizing! Stop it! I left for your own damn good, and I only came back because I'm too fucking weak to do this alone!" Those couldn't be tears blossoming in the corners of MELLO'S eyes – right?

"W-what do you mean?" Confusion tilted Matt's head to one side, making Mello flush an odd shade of crimson.

"Don't do that. Don't make this harder for me." Mello took a deep breath. "What you asked me to do…last night. I can't do it. I've already figured out how to capture Kira, you see."

"That's fantastic!" Matt interjected with a grin. Mello looked away.

"No. To catch him…there's a 99.99 chance that I will die. In fact, I'm getting pretty sure that my death is the only way."

_I've come to your rescue_

_And you_

_can't_

_rescue_

_me._

Those goddamn tears were starting up again, sliding down Matt's cheek, but he didn't feel them.

"There has to be another way."

Mello gave a wry little laugh.

"You think I didn't try and think of every other possible way this could end, all those hours when you were lying there in withdrawal? I don't want to d-die." He shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them, they were oozing intensity that Matt had never seen before. "But if my death can save others, I'll do it."

"B-but….but…"

"That's why I wanted to leave, Matt. I don't want you to get wrapped up in this." He raised his hand, as if to rub Matt on the shoulder or something, but then seemed to think better of it and laid his hand back on his knee. "I don't want you to get hurt," he said softly. "But…goddamn you, Matt!" There was that dry smile… "I just can't seem to quit you! I can't do this alone. And when I saw you all weak like that, it got me worried – and not just cuz I was worried about you! I didn't know how I could go through this by myself…I don't' even think I could."

_When did I lose you?_

_I need you to pull through._

It was Matt's turn to give a tearstained smile. Even now he noticed that the snow had formed a new halo around Mello's head. He reached up and brushed some of it off. They weren't just angels anymore. They were martyrs.

He leaned over and embraced Mello once again, feeling his cool skin relax beneath Matt's regained strength.

_The weight of the world never felt so alive._

"No matter what," he whispered, feeling his own salty tears drip onto his smiling mouth, "I will always be with you."

They both knew why the song was playing now. It was singing their story, though it wasn't clear who was really talking about whom. It didn't matter. They had saved each other. They had lived together. And they knew in their hearts, which beat against each other, that they would die together. Neither could live without the other.

That's what happens when you're addicted.


End file.
